Nicotine and Faded Dreams
by decalink
Summary: When the Hummels move to Lima, Ohio from New York City to join families with the Hudsons, the transition is far from easy. Add Blaine Anderson, the tough guy with a tragic past, and things are about to get a lot more complicated. Badboy!Blaine Sassy!Kurt
1. Chapter 1

A/N This is my first fic, but don't let that hinder you from giving your honest opinion. I hope you enjoy it! Also, I'll only be writing the lyrics to songs if I feel that they apply to the situation. The title is from Say You Like Me by We the Kings.

If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Chapter 1

Anyone who had a brain and some degree of a self preservation instinct knew that Blaine Anderson was bad news. Ever since his transfer in the middle of freshman year, he had fought his way to the top of the McKinley High food chain of Badassery. Initially, he had transferred in with a bunch of his friends when their private school was shut down for having a marijuana garden in the quad, but after a particularly bad bullying incident and a stint in the local hospital he was a changed man. Gone were the days of bow ties, suspenders, and hot pink sunglasses. His friends tried to talk to him, but it was no use. He would just walk away, leaving nothing but disappointed looks and the smell of cigarettes and leather behind him.

* * *

Kurt Hummel sighed as he pulled into the parking lot of his new school. He wished he could stay in New York, love at first sight be damned. He was all for romantics, but moving to middle-of-homophobic-nowhere Ohio to chase after Carole Hudson was a bit extreme. Her son was a complete idiot, a direct opposite of the cultured teen. Not only that, but Kurt was expected to share a room with the neanderthal. Hah. What a joke. It would be a miracle if that room ever stopped smelling like sweat socks.

As soon as he walked through the doors, a barrage of slushies were introduced to his face, a meeting which he hadn't anticipated. After all, these people had no idea who he was. Did they?

_Perfect. Just perfect. _He thought bitterly.

"Oh my god. Kurt, are you okay?" Carole's son- _What was his name again? Farley? Fred? I don't even know. _- asked, jogging up to him.

"Just fine. Thanks." Kurt muttered, wiping blue raspberry slush out of his eyes.

"Are you sure? You look kinda...pissed." What's-his-face tilted his head, his face perpetually set in confusion.

"Don't worry about it. Although my clothes are completely ruined now." he groaned. What an auspicious start to his new life.

"C'mon, you can wear my spare sweatshirt. It's in my locker."

"You REALLY don't have to do that."

"What are brothers for? Or step brothers, I guess." The huge boy shrugged good naturedly.

Kurt just rolled his eyes and followed after him. He didn't like it, not at all, but what other choice did he have? It's not as though he could just go home and get different clothes. Skipping school on your first day is usually frowned upon.

"Hey Finn!" a short brunette with an unfortunate nose waved, annoyingly chipper. _So Finn's his name. Huh. I would never have guessed that._

"Oh, uh, hey Rachel. Listen, I gotta go help Kurt. He had a McKinley High Facial." Finn called over his shoulder as he walked away, completely oblivious to the crestfallen look on Rachel's face.

They walked a while longer. Finn held the locker room door open for Kurt. How chivalrous. In another life, he might've had a crush in his stepbrother. As it was, he found the whole idea all kinds of repulsive.

"So. Who was that?" Kurt asked as he pulled the over-large sweatshirt over his once perfect coif.

"Who?"

"That girl."

"Oh. Her?" Finn paused, thinking. It was a rare look for him, and Kurt bit back the urge to laugh. "That's Rachel Berry. She's captain of the Glee Club with me. She's alright, I guess."

Kurt's ears perked up. "Glee Club?" He had been the lead singer of his school's Glee Club in New York, an all-male acapella choir. Surely he could make it into this one. "Finn, do you think you could get me an audition?"

"Oh! Yeah, man! I didn't know you could sing!"

"I could say the same for you." Kurt chuckled. Finn wasn't actually half bad, just a little slow. But as far as allies went, Finn was a powerful one to have.

* * *

"Alright, guys! It looks like we have a new potential member!" Mr. Schuester announced to the rest of the club after Finn had gone through the whole long winded explanation, while Kurt had mostly examined his cuticles.

Kurt was glad he had rushed home during lunch to change clothes. He needed to make a good impression on these people. Not that any of them cared much about clothes. A biggish black girl caught his appraising look and smiled, rolling her eyes in the direction of Rachel Berry's abominable kitten sweater.

"My name is Kurt Hummel and I'll be singing Defying Gravity from the Tony Award winning musical Wicked," he announced, smiling winningly. Projecting an air of confidence was crucial, one had to treat every audition like it was for Broadway, even if it was actually for some Glee Club in Lima Ohio. This was the song he trotted out to win over, well, everyone in New York. Without waiting for them to reply, he began to sing.

He did his rendition of the song perfectly, as usual. The applause, though a bit hesitant at first, quickly became hearty. He was wonderful, and he knew it.

"Well, I've never heard of a boy with that kind of range before! Your countertenor is almost flawless. Perfect for backup harmonies." Rachel beamed at him.

"I think I speak for all of us when I say welcome to the New Directions, Kurt!" Mr. Schuester exclaimed as the bell rung.

_Did he just say the Nude Erections? You have GOT to be kidding me._

" Hey Kurt! Wait up!" the black girl called after him. She linked their arms and said, "I'm Mercedes by the way. You were fantastic."

Kurt smiled gratefully at her. "I'm glad you liked it. Nice to meet you, Mercedes. "

"So, what brings you to the great town of Lima? Finn said you used to live in New York." She asked.

Before he had a chance to reply, a hulking black motorcycle tore up to the school. He barely had time to blink before he watched the infernal thing collide with a car. Not just any car either, not with the day he was having. No. The car just had to be his Navigator.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Oh. My. Gaga." Kurt muttered under his breath. The driver of the motorcycle seemed completely unharmed, so his attention immediately snapped to his precious car. Predictably, there was a motorcycle-shaped dent in the back. As he rushed forward to get a closer look, leaning on Mercedes for support, the driver took off his helmet. He shook out his curly, sweat dampened, dark hair like a wet dog: a movement that should have been less appealing than it actually was.

"Sorry about your car, Angel. Wasn't paying attention." He said huskily.

Kurt snorted. "Obviously not."

The other boy's eyes widened in surprise at the high pitch, malice sparkling in their honey coloured depths. "Well well well well well well well. If you aren't a walking talking stereotype, then I'm not Blaine Anderson. " He drawled.

"And if you aren't a walking, talking cliche, then I'm actually interested in knowing your name." Kurt fired back.

"Cliche? Me? How so?" Blaine was mocking him now. None the less deterred, Kurt cast his eyes up and down the boy's figure, lips pursed in a judgemental sneer.

"First of all, the motorcycle and leather jacket? So overrated. You may want to buy a white v-neck that isn't a see-through child's small, because I can see your nipples. Skinny jeans and skater shoes are so...ugh. I can't even think of anything bad enough to describe them. And you may want to invest in some gum, because stale cigarettes is NOT a good smell on anyone."

A hush fell over the parking lot; a crowd had gathered to see Anderson take down the new kid. No one had expected this odd turn of events. Anderson himself seemed to be attempting to collect his thoughts, for once his clever words failed him.

"Please tell me you boys both have insurance or something." Mercedes said hesitantly. That seemed to snap everyone out of their stupor, and the crowd dissipated. Clearly nothing exciting was going to happen now.

"I know I do. You know, in case some idiot on a motorcycle decides to ruin my car." Kurt said venomously, glaring at the other boy. Really, boy was the best term to describe him. When you looked past all the bluster and bravado, Blaine Anderson was really, really exceptionally tiny.

Blaine feigned a hurt look, but you could see the amusement playing in his eyes and tugging one corner of his mouth upwards into a crooked smile.

"Here's the card, Aretha." He said, pulling it out of his beat up wallet.

Mercedes took the nickname in stride, expression unchanging as she put his information in her phone. "Thanks. Kurt, I'll take you home. Finn said your dad is a mechanic?"

"He is." Kurt replied, totally ignoring the looks Blaine was giving him.

"Great, so that means your car can be fixed easily. Now c'mon. Lets go." Mercedes re-attached herself to his arm and dragged him over to her car.

* * *

"Blaine."

Blaine looked up from his usual after school coffee fix to see his former best friends standing in front of him, arms crossed with identical scowls.

"Wes. David. What a surprise." It really was a surprise, but they didn't have to know that. He hadn't spoken two words to the boys since he had decided that he would be better off fending for himself.

The pair sat down, David pulling up a chair to the table meant for two. Wes, usually the one to initiate conversations, looked uncomfortable, fingers twisting uselessly in his lap.

"We want to talk to you about-" He began.

"We actually don't want to talk to you." David interrupted. Wes rolled his eyes before continuing.

"About Kurt."

Blaine let out a harsh laugh. "Kurt. Right. Okay, fine. I'll play. What about him?"

"You need to apologize."

"I...wait, what?"

Wes fixed him with a stern look. "Blaine, you hit his car."

"I remember. I was there."

"God, Blaine. When did you turn into such a dickhead?" David exploded, waving his hands.

Blaine said nothing, just raised a triangular eyebrow.

"What David is trying to say," Wes cut in, putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder to calm him down, "is that it's the polite thing to do. Just...trust us, okay? Or at least me." The tall asian boy said, punctuating the end of his sentence with a nervous laugh.

"Maybe I'll think about it."

"Do that."

* * *

"So, how's Leemur, Ohio?"

Kurt laughed softly into his telephone. His best friend from New York had sent him several texts. And called. And attempted FaceTime. So, after he washed the last of the sticky slushy out of his hair-_damn that is hard to get out- _He called her.

"Madi, its Lima. Not 'Leemur'. Or Lame-a. Its not thats bad."

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel don't you DARE lie to me. You miss me. You do."

"Of course. There isn't anyone near as fabulous as you here."

"Any hot guys there?"

Kurt paused for a second, debating whether or not to tell her about Blaine. He had two options: explain everything to her and endure her questions, or not and face the consequences.

"Well, there is this one guy..." He started, hoping to a God he didn't believe in that he could leave it there. But no such luck. He could practically see her, pulling herself up into a sitting position, getting ready for a good story.

"Spill it, Hummel." She commanded.

"His name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

"Blaine? Wait. Isn't that a major appliance? How very Pretty in Pink."

"You're so witty. Do you want to hear about him or not?"

"Yes! Keep talking."

"He rides a motorcycle and he's about 5'4 and hit my Navigator." He braced himself for the explosion.

"HE HIT NANCY? WHAT! NO. NOT OKAY."

Kurt smiled. He missed his friend's antics, more than he cared to admit.

"Sweetie, I gotta go. But we WILL talk more about this tomorrow." She sighed.

"Deal. Goodnight, Madison."

"Night, Kurt."

* * *

_**A/N **_Oh. My. Gaga. YOU GUYS! I was SO not expecting this sort of a response! I promise to haul ass and get the next chapter up soon. I am so grateful for every one of you. EVERY. LAST. ONE. And a very special thank you to all of you who reviewed! I just wanna hug all of you. Oh, and I hope you don't mind me inserting an OC. Well, sorta. She's based on the Batman to my Robin, so enjoy her :]. Sorry for the shortness. I think its better to have short chapters more often than long chapters far apart. As soon as I get out of school I'll write nice long ones for you guys. And some sexytimes. See you later!

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recongnize.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

For the first time all semester, Blaine Anderson swaggered into the - supposedly mandatory- French class. Ignoring the raised eyebrows from his good buddy Wes, he dropped himself in the chair next to one Kurt Hummel.

"What the hell are you doing?" David hissed, turning around in his spot next to Wes.

"Learning. Obviously. I swear, you used to be less stupid." Blaine drawled, boredom evident on his face.

Before David had a chance to reply, the teacher walked in and class began.

"Everyone, pair up for an exciting assignment!" She smiled, clapping her hands. Her smile dimmed a bit as she saw Blaine. "Ah. Mr. Anderson. I was planning on pairing Mr. Hummel with Miss Cohen-Chang and Miss Jones, but I suppose now that you're here, you will be his partner." She glanced at Kurt apologetically.

"Ms. Harwell?" Blaine called.

"Yes?"

"I don't plan on being his-" He held up his hands, and made air-quotes, "partner."

Kurt blushed furiously as Ms. Harwell stood at the front of the class, dumbstruck. Slowly, she turned around and continued writing on the chalkboard.

"You know what? Screw you, Anderson." Kurt muttered.

"You wish you could."

"No, actually, I don't. I don't have a penchant for dwarves who ride motorcycles in tight leather jackets and douchey sunglasses. Sorry to burst your bubble."

Blaine laughed. No, not laughed. More like chuckled, that is if chuckling had ominous sexual undertones. He caught a glare from David, and smirked. Obviously laughing wasn't the correct response to being shot down, but hey. This kid seemed to think that he was above Blaine, above everything. He had no idea how wrong he was.

"Mmm. I think you do. Because you know what Hummel? You. Want. Me. You want me so bad, I can practically smell it on your skin. You're afraid that I'm no good for you, but that won't change basic chemistry. So now all I have to do is wait. You'll come to me, and then you're gonna come _for_ me." He leaned back, waiting for his words to take effect.

"Ms. Harwell?" Kurt said, raising his hand. "May I be excused to go to the bathroom?"

She nodded, and he rushed out of the room.

* * *

Kurt hung his head over the toilet bowl, the tears burning his eyes and throat. He had always had a nervous stomach when he was a kid, but he thought he'd outgrown it. Now, he couldn't shake the acrid taste of vomit in his mouth. What that stupid prick had said just pushed him over the edge. He had never wanted anyone less in his entire life.

With a sigh he pulled himself off the floor, flushing the toilet. Thank the God he didn't believe in, he always carried a pack of gum in his Marc Jacobs satchel. He popped it in his mouth and chewed furiously. The bell rang, signalling the beginning of lunch; he wasn't hungry. And who could blame him? He'd spent the majority of the last half hour losing the protein shake he'd had for breakfast, and he was in no mood for the type of greasy repast offered at McKinley.

Suddenly, the door to the men's room swung open. Finn bounded in.

"Kurt? Are you okay?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

Kurt laughed shakily. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry."

Finn's expression darkened. "What did that moron say to you? I heard from David that Blaine was giving you trouble in French today."

Kurt rolled his eyes. He didn't know which one was David, but it didn't matter. He needed Finn to not make a big deal out of this.

"It was just his stupid attitude, trying to get a response from me. I can take care of myself, Finn."

Finn's shoulders relaxed, but the worry still lit his brown eyes. "Just...promise me you'll let me know if I can help?"

"Sure thing." Kurt smiled. Finn was so innocent looking.

"Do you want lunch, or...?" Finn trailed off.

"I'm actually not hungry, but I wouldn't want to miss a chance to eat with the nicest guy at McKinley."

That took a moment to register with Finn. "What do you mean you're not hungry...Wait. Are you talking about me?"

Kurt laughed softly, putting a hand on the taller boy's shoulder. "Of course I am. Not just any guy would come in the bathroom, chasing after his gay step-brother to make sure he was okay."

Finn's expression visibly brightened, his goofy smile spilling all over his face.

* * *

_Noah Puckerman. Rachel Berry. Mike Chang. Tina Cohen-Chang. Artie Abrams. Lauren Zizes. Mercedes Jones. Sam Evans. Quinn Fabray. Santana Lopez. Brittany S. Pierce. _Kurt ran the mental checklist during study hall. The members of the Glee club were most likely to be his only friends at this damned school, so he figured he had better learn their names. Finn had explained all of their relationships at one point, but Kurt couldn't remember a thing about it.

Suddenly, he felt a note hit the back of his head. He smiled. Madi used to do that all the time. Out of habit, he reached back and picked it up.

"_Hey, babe__." _it read. _"__What do you say about taking me up on my offer__?" _

Kurt bit his lip, feeling bile rise in his throat at the thought.

"_You make me want to vomit." _ He wrote back. At least he was being honest. He threw the note back in the general direction of the sender, not even bothering to look back to see who it was. He already knew.

Again, he felt the persistent flick. Against his better judgement, he opened the note.

"_Look. You missed the entire instructions for our french project. At least you have to get those from me. I was just suggesting that we have a little fun in the process ;)" _

"_Fine. But we can only meet in public places. I don't trust you."_

Kurt didn't turn around as he threw the note back again. If he had, he would've seen the triumphant grin light Blaine's face. Right now, it didn't matter that Kurt didn't trust him. He was one step closer to getting into those fantastically tight pants.

**A/N First off: I am so, so sorry for leaving y'all hanging. I've been all over the place, including my neighbor's house, with all their pornographic monkey statues leering at me all the time. I shall try my hardest to update soon and very soon. Thank you to all the reviewers, sorry I can't respond to y'all seperately...I want to devote all my time to this. Someone said that FF is deleting racey stories? IDK, but I'm uploading to Scarves and Coffee anyways. My personal tumblr is decalink(.)tumblr(.)com and I'm working on setting up a tumblr for this 'verse. ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed! I love you too much for words.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Maybe he's blowing you off?"

Blaine chuckled at his companion's word choice as he sipped his coffee. For reasons unbeknownst to him, Noah Puckerman was joining their little study date. The curly haired teen glares out the window like the pouring rain killed his favorite cat.

"Please. He wishes."

Both boys turned to face the effeminate voice behind them. Kurt was dripping wet, holding his Lima Bean coffee cup out-presumably so that little drops of watery hairspray wouldn't fall into his beloved grande nonfat mocha.

"Noah." He said, nodding to Puck as he sat down.

"Wait. Hummel. Did you set this up?" Blaine questioned, leaning forward.

"Unfortunately no. My step-brother doesn't seem to trust you." Kurt snapped back. Puck looked extraordinarily uncomfortable.

"Whoa, guys. Lets just chill out here." Puck interrupted, waving his hands at the two boys.

"Fine with me. Anderson, what's our French project?" Kurt said flatly, taking a long swig of his fortifying mocha.

"We have to translate some shit."

/

"_THAT'S _all he said?" Madi practically screamed into her computer. They had agreed to skype that night.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, but I won't make you listen to what he actually said."

"So what is the project?"

"You really want to know?"

Madi looked seriously into the camera. "I want to know everything that goes on in your life. EVERY. THING."

"Fine. We have to translate a long article into French. I'll just do all the work. It'll be fine."

"I don't doubt that. I remember the one year we had French class together... You sounded like music. I sounded like a camel giving birth. To a wooly mammoth."

Kurt laughed, wincing mentally as he recalled just how right his friend was.

"Well, I've got to go. I miss you so much, its unreal. Don't forget about me while you're in New York." He sighed.

"Whatever babe. Times square can't shine as bright as you." She smiled. "Goodnight."

* * *

_Ugh! If Finn just left me here, we are going to have a SERIOUS disagreement._

Kurt had stayed after a seriously uneventful school day to ask Ms. Harwell about the French assignment; Blaine's interpretation didn't exactly leave him with confidence. He had also neglected to inform his step-brother of this fact.

"Finn? Are you in he-" Kurt began, trudging into the almost deserted locker room.

Almost deserted, except for one lone boy, whaling on a punching bag. He had his back to Kurt, so it was impossible to make out who he was. Whoever this boy was, well, DAMN. His white tee shirt lay off to the side, little rivulets of sweat working their way between his bare shoulder blades.

"Uh, sorry. I'm gonna...I'm gonna go." Kurt stammered, cheeks burning scarlet.

The other boy turned around just in time to see him flee the room.

Blaine had been so wrapped up in taking out his frustrations on the bag that he hadn't even known he had an audience until said audience excused himself. Now he was at a crossroads. He could run after him, like some idiotic impulse was edging him towards, or he could continue with his business.

Against his better judgement, he chose the former.

"Hummel! Hey, HUMMEL!" He yelled, sprinting down the hallway.

Kurt turned and his blush deepened, something Blaine found both hilarious and endearing.

"You were looking for Hudson? He left." Blaine said, skidding to a stop a few feet from him.

Finally, frustration won out over embarrassment, and Kurt's shoulders sagged.

"That idiot. He was my ride home. Now I'm going to have to walk, and its muddy from the rain yesterday. I'm going to kill that boy!" Kurt huffed.

"Problem?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Yeah. My problem is that some ass-jacket ran into my car with his motorcycle, my baby is STILL in the shop by the way, and Finn was my only way home!" He snapped.

"If it makes you feel any better, my motorcycle is officially out of commission."

"It doesn't." Kurt closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I could..." _Oh shit, what am I getting myself into? _"give you a ride?" Blaine offered.

The other boy's eyes flew open, and then narrowed once again. "I thought you said your motorcycle was out of commission."

Blaine shrugged. "It is. But I have a car too."

"Of course you do."

"Look. Do you want a ride or not?" Blaine asked, getting angry. This was NOT going as expected.

"Fine. Just fine."

* * *

The car was posh, Kurt had to admit that. They had walked to it in stony silence. It was some foreign brand he didn't recognize, which was saying something; he had picked up quite a bit from working in his dad's shop.

Blaine started the car, and Katy Perry blasted out of the speakers. He scrambled to turn it off.

"Sorry, sorry." He muttered, glaring at Kurt as if daring him to question his music choices. Kurt simply sighed and stared out the window.

"We're here." Blaine said after a while.

Kurt had been so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't even notice.

"Wait a minute." He said. "This isn't my house."

"I know." Blaine smiled wickedly. "I said I'd give you a ride, didn't I? I didn't say where."

"Will you _please_ take me home now? You've had your joke. Ha ha."

"Nope. We have a French project, after all." Blaine sang back at him.

"Anderson, I-" Kurt cut off as he saw where they were.

"Jesus. Is this your house?" He breathed.

"As flattered as I am that you think I'm the Christ, I'm not. But I appreciate the compliment. And yes, it is."

The house was HUGE. Too big for one family, and surrounded by ones just like it. It was beautiful, and yet a strangely sad feeling hung around it, like no matter how wonderful and perfect it looked, the people who lived inside were absolutely miserable.

"Welcome to Casa de Anderson." Blaine grinned, stretching out his arms.

* * *

**_A/N_ Does that count as a cliffhanger? I'm trying to keep each chapter to about 1000 words, so that's what you're gonna get. Sorry again for the lateness, I'm at my dad's house which means writing on the giant desktop in front of everyone. And I can't upload here for whatever reason. I'm going to try to have Ch. 5 up super quick for all of you. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorited and added this to their alerts! You are the reason I keep writing. So keep on doing what you're doing! Horrendously long author's note, I know. I just wanted to give a quick shout out to my ever wonderful beta, Lindsey! Her tumblr is justanotherpieceintheirgame(.)tumblr(.)com, so go follow her! As always, I am decalink(,)tumblr(.)com! All for now, peeps!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing that you recognize. I don't even own my soul anymore.**


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